


Super-Freak Love (Spider Man x Deadpool)

by Volume_Struck



Category: Avengers, Deadpool - Fandom, Marvel, shield - Fandom, spider man - Fandom, spider man x deadpool, spideypool - Fandom, stony - Fandom
Genre: Alcoholic Tony, Anxiety, Depression, Disapproving Parents, Eventual Smut?, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sad Peter, Sad Wade, Self Harm, Suicide, Tony and Steve are Peter's parents, Underage - Freeform, peter is 16 and Wade is 26, self harm Peter, slow buildup, super family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 18:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6482656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Volume_Struck/pseuds/Volume_Struck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Parker has way too many problems as it is, being Spider Man and the son of two of the Avengers- and now, he has to deal with a certain psycho, armed with katanas, shitty pickup lines, and loads of sarcasm, following him around during his patrols. At first, it's annoying- but he finds himself growing fond of this man, Deadpool- the only person who doesn't treat him like he's made of glass all the time, the only person who takes him seriously, and the only person he feels he can trust.<br/>Peter finds himself slowly letting Pool into his everyday life, forming a fragile and unstable bond between the two of them, as they try to navigate the struggles of disapproving parents, depression, and the struggle of being a freak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There are many things about Tony Stark that make you like him, but also want to punch him in the face so hard that you feel all 27 bones in your hand shatter.   
One of these many things, is the fact that he thinks he's a genius- and in some ways, he is- and yet, he is so incredibly moronic when it comes to other humans. Why? Because, he's a mechanical genius, but he seems to have forgotten that humans are not machines. Or maybe he was never aware of it. Or maybe he is aware, and he's just your average, overly intelligent asshole, and the whole "he's so smart he doesn't know how to function, so it's okay, it's not his fault, we still love him" bullshit doesn't really apply.   
But, that's not what this is about. It's about a certain person who is currently sulking because his father, aka the asshole who was previously mentioned, is being a complete dick to his son and doesn't even know it.  
This person, who he tends to misunderstand and belittle the most, would be his 16 year old son, Peter Parker. Except, unlike most people his age, it's a bit more than "look, I'm a teenage boy, and I'm all about long, sullen silences, followed by mean comments, followed by more sullen silences, and my dad doesn't understand my emotions!"  
It's more like, Peter is Spider Man, his parents are Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, Tony and Steve are part of the Avengers, both parents are determined to keep their son completely safe, and if he gets so much as a bruise they will not hesitate to call a goddamn SWAT team, and, get this- they have no clue he's Spider Man, and that he has been for a year now.  
And if they did, they would likely kick his little spider ass into next week.  
Or next decade.   
Peter, who really doesn't want to know what they would do to him if they ever found out he swings around the city in spandex (kicking ass in the process) keeps it a secret, and intends to do so until  
A) the day they find him dead in his suit because of his role as a vigilante   
Or  
B) when hell freezes the fuck over  
So, until then, he's stuck sitting at the dinner table with the three of the Avengers (his parents and Thor- Clint, Bruce and Natasha had work to attend to), getting completely trash talked.  
"Well, would you look who it is." Tony remarks, shaking his head disapprovingly at the news channel, playing on the flatscreen across from the table. "The spider-bitch himself."  
Peter flinches, pausing mid-chew, before resuming, picking at his pasta distastefully with his fork and glaring at the plate instead of his father. As much as he would love to express his anger towards his father's opinions on his own son, he has to keep it at a minimum to avoid suspicion. The last thing he needs is for them to think something is going on and put 24/7 surveillance on him again. Spider Man would disappear for that entire time period, and he's sure that they'd eventually piece it together.  
Or maybe they think so little of him, they'd never suspect that he would do anything even remotely remarkable, and wouldn't even begin to entertain the idea of their precious little son endangering himself in the same way they do every single day.   
"Language." Steve reprimands Tony sharply, glaring, before turning his gaze to Peter. It softens to a look for concern. He's been worried- his son and husband haven't talked in almost two weeks now. No more than a few words. It was so hard for him to watch, and it made every single family event and every single dinner unbearably tense for everyone.  
Except Thor.   
He's kinda oblivious at times.  
"Young Peter!"Thor bellows, not detecting the suffocating tension in the air, and also offering a much needed distraction from it. "would you kindly pass the garlic bread?"  
Peter nods without looking up and passes the basket of bread to his left, where Thor gratefully accepts it and loads his plate.  
However, Tony continues to talk, as if he had been uninterrupted, and the relief gained from Thor's distraction is short lived.  
"Honestly, this amateur. What does he think he's doing?" He continues to comment as "Spider Man saves child from known felon" flashes across the screen, displaying a series of images of Spidey while the reporter rambles about his "heroic actions".  
Peter flinches again, but does not pause this time, simply rolling with the punches.  
"Nowadays it's like everyone thinks they can just throw on some spandex and give themselves a stupid name and go save the city. It's bullshit! And this 'Spider Man'- he's the worst of it! He stops petty thieves and the occasional minor league crime organization that could be taken down by any professional in the blink of an eye." He rants, taking a swig of whatever alcohol he's decided to indulge in tonight. Like every night. And afternoon. And, depending on the day, mornings too.  
Peter, who can't take it anymore, lifts his head. "Dad... I think he's just trying to help. There's really no point in trashing someone for trying to make the city safer."  
"And it speaks." He remarks, rather rudely, setting down his glass. "What a shame, whenever he decides to come out of his moodiness, it's always about something stupid, and he's usually wrong."  
"Dad," Peter persists. "He's only trying to make things safer."  
"Safer? More like more pathetic. He does what the cops should do. He does what the cops usually do. Sometimes he even meddles in our business. But really, he wants to be a special snowflake, so he won't leave it to the big kids."  
"Just because he gets to things before you do doesn't mean you have to throw a little jealousy fueled hissy fit."  
Thor, still oblivious, continues to stuff his face, while Steve looks shocked and afraid, and Tony looks beyond pissed.  
"Ha," Tony laughs. "Teenagers. You're all so full of crap. You're so desperate to think that 'right and wrong' and 'justice' are in the hands of the youth, that you take a liking to people with a lack of skill, finesse, and intelligence, like our little Spider-loser here."  
"To-" Steve starts, but is interrupted by the slamming of a fist on the table.  
"You know what?" Peter can feel rage building up in is chest. "You are so full of crap. Seriously, your precious little ego is more important to you than anything. You talk like your main concern is the safety of this city, when it's really the safety of your reputation. Get over yourself."  
"Peter." Tony shoots a death glare, leaning forward. "When will it ever get into your head that you are not an Avenger, you never will be, you will never come close to that, and you do not get to decide what this city needs? You're just a naive child. Accept it."  
Peter immediately looks down again, hurt, and his eyes are stinging with tears. His breathing is labored as he tries to restrain himself from crying.  
There's only so many insults a kid can take from his own parent in one day, and he had surpassed that limit a while ago.   
He should've known better than to speak up. There really is no point.  
"Tony..." Steve frowns, looking between the people he loves most, not sure what to do. Peter is now sulking and quite clearly on the verge of tears across the table, his husband is being a cocky bastard, and he has no clue how he's supposed to fix this, or if he even can.  
Peter stands slowly, his eyes trained on the floor, carrying his plate to the sink, before turning around and heading to his room, without a sound. The others simply watch him, Tony with a glare, Steve with a heartbroken expression, and Thor, who is finally aware of the situation, with a look of confusion and pity.  
Peter pauses when he reaches the top of the stairs.   
"Nobody bother me. I'm locking my door and going to sleep."  
He continues down the hall into his room, where he slams the door behind him, locking it and pressing his back against it. It takes several minutes of trying to get keep his shit together before he gives up and snaps.  
A strangled sob escapes his lips and he ends up on the floor crying, head in his hands, and his heart, once again, crushed by his own father.


	2. Dumbass-Pool

{yellow}  
[white]  
{hey, maybe this isn't our greatest idea...}  
"What are you talking about?" Deadpool tilts his head to the side, tossing a small box (with a button that, if pressed, sets off explosives that will obliterate the empty building across the street) between his hands like its only a toy. His legs are dangling over the edge of a warehouse in the middle of an abandoned industrial area, and he's kicking them back and forth like a child on a swing, watching the moon dreamily like the hopeless romantic he truly is.   
And, as his poetic side would describe it, "the wind was blowing lightly through the spandex of his suit as he inhaled the warm, nighttime, polluted city air, sending chills down his spine, as he waited to meet a dashing young hero on a desolate rooftop, in the beautifully romantic glow of the moonlight."   
Or so he hopes.  
{blowing up an abandoned building is not exactly romantic. You might just piss him off.}  
Pool frowns, pouting. "But we're trying to meet the new guy in town, and I'm pretty sure making a big 'bang' will get his attention better than approaching him and asking for a chat. Plus, I don't want to chat right now- I wanna check out his moves in person!"  
[and his ass, you perverted freak.]  
Pool frowns even more, unhappy about the reappearance of his least favorite of the two little companions he has in his head. "Ah, I see you've returned from your sulking." He comments begrudgingly, to the more cruel and obnoxious voice that refuses to get out of his head. Yellow was so much nicer. Still a dick- but nicer.  
But hearing voices just isn't really nice in general.  
[guess who's back back back, back aga-]  
{shut up. We're busy.}  
"Yeah." Pool sides with yellow, crossing his arms and scowling in a childish way. "I'm trying to meet a cute boy, now is not the time." He whines.  
[we don't even know if he's cute. He could be a 70 year old man with a bunch of wrinkles and shit. He could be even uglier than us.]  
"But he has a nice ass..."  
[nice ass does not = cute.]  
{save it for later you two.}   
[fuck you.]  
{you know you want to.}  
[you're an idiot.]  
He groans, leaning back and furrowing his (hairless) brows, while he tries to drown out the bickering in his head. He really is starting to hate the voices.  
Sometimes it's fine, other times it's incredibly agitating. Lately, it's agitating. Like how a few days back, they got in a fight over what they wanted on their taco, and then, after Pool had called him a whiny little bitch and blew his brains out with a handgun, white decided not to talk to him for several days. It was a much needed break from the constant bullshit white filled his head with, but it got lonely for both him and yellow.  
Which, in turn, lead to the current predicament- he's on the roof of a building, explosives set up, all in the hopes of making a friend other than the voices in his head. Although, I'm sure that it's obvious he is not any good at making friends, or even being tolerable for more than few minutes. After all, his idea of creating a "friend making opportunity" is blowing up an abandoned warehouse.  
Yeah, he has some friend issues, to say the least. Although, even if this doesn't work- he figures that wreaking havoc will at least temporarily fix his loneliness problem.   
[speaking of lonely, how about we get this freak show on the road and blow some shit up!!]  
Sitting back up, and also instantly cheering up, Deadpool grins from underneath his mask, looking at the button excitedly. Within a few seconds, all previous thoughts about loneliness and poetic bullshit have left his mind, and he just wants to explode some shit. He jumps to his feet with renewed energy.  
"Yeah, blowing shit up always makes everything better!"  
{really, maybe we should reconsider this...}  
"Too late."  
He presses the button, his stupid grin not faltering for a single second, and with a huge bang, the building across the street explodes and goes up in flames.  
The explosion sends him stumbling backwards a few feet, landing on his ass. He watches silently for a moment, observing the flames eat away at and then completely engulf what was left of the building with a hint of fascination.  
As soon as the sirens start, he snaps out of the trance the fire had put him in, jumping to his feet once again.  
"HAAHA!" He pumps his fist in the air. "Fuck yeah, I haven't done anything that fun in a long time!"  
{and now there's a fire. Good job.}  
[WOOOOOOOOOOO!]  
Deadpool brushes his hands together and stretches his arms over his head, satisfied with his work, and flexes in the process. "Alright, now to wait for our-"  
He doesn't even finish his sentence before a web flies at him from behind, pulling his arms violently so they're behind his back, and then, in just a few seconds, binding them together tightly. He lets out a yelp, startled, but cuts himself off, trying to keep the wimpiness to a minimum, since he's trying to make a good impression.  
{well, he's hostile. That's just fantastic.}  
[whatever- maybe we can make him like us with our dashing manly charms? Oh wait, I forgot, we have no charms, we're a horrible person, and we are butt-fucking-ugly.]   
He loses his balance when another web restrains his ankles and his legs are forced together, and, despite every attempt to regain his balance, he collapses, bumping his head on the cement, and laying on his side. It only took him a few seconds to have Pool fully restrained.  
[so he's kinky- into the whole restraint thing? We can dig it.]  
{and he's fast.}  
[wonder how fast he is in bed...]  
He lets out a breathy laugh, winded, and waiting for some sort of comment from his captor. When there is none, only the sound of the wind on the rooftop, he decides to talk.  
"Hot damn," he comments, assuming that Spider Man was somewhere behind him. When there's, once again, no reply, he keeps talking.   
"You know, I always thought being webbed up by you would be fun, arousing, even, but it kinda stings when the web hits you, like snapping a rubber band on your skin."  
There's no reply, only quiet footsteps approaching him.   
"Hello? Sexy spider, is that you?" Pool remarks, struggling against the webs, and discovering that they are significantly stronger than he had anticipated. Actually, he is fairly certain he won't be able to escape them.  
The footsteps stop directly behind him, and he rolls himself over with great difficulty (especially since all of the weapons strapped to his body are poking and prodding at his already irritated and sensitive skin in the process of doing so), looking up to see none other than Spider Man himself.  
[success! And a nice view of his ass, too! Told you it would work!]  
{actually, you didn't, he did.}  
[whatever.]  
"Guys... Now probably isn't the time." He tries to shut the voices up in the lowest voice possible, so he can focus on whatever Spider Babe here has to say to him.  
"Care to explain what this is about?" The other masked man crosses his arms disapprovingly, standing over his captive, and using what could only be described as "the mom voice".   
"Wow..." Pool ignores the question, trying to sit up, but Spidey uses his foot to press him back against the ground. "You're a bit shorter looking in person... And you sound young. How old are you? Are you even legal?" He asks, fascinated.   
{dude, asking if someone's legal in the first impression is a bad idea. You know, creeping?}  
[but... Is he???]  
"Guys." He whispers to himself sharply. "Not. Now."  
[yeesh, fine. Bitch.]  
After a pause, during which Spider Man was trying to comprehend what the actual fuck this guy is saying, he speaks."What the hell are you sa- Okay, forget that- who are you?" He tries again, frustrated already. He's had an emotionally rough night at home already, and is not in the mood to deal with this shit. He wants to get this over with and leave.  
The sirens are growing nearer and he's digging through his memories to try and remember if he's dealt with this guy before. He can't really put a name to him and has no recognition of him, and his parents haven't mentioned him, so he figures he's just a lunatic in a mask.  
Now, he just has to figure out who this guy is, and if he has some sort of criminal organization or terrorist threat to worry about, not just this moron.  
"Just your friendly neighborhood Deadpool, always DTF." He chirps, despite the fact that Spider Man is currently aggressively digging the heel of his foot into his ribcage.   
"Okay," he responds, agitated, and ignoring the second half of that introduction. "Why are you blowing up buildings? Who do you work for? What do you guys want?"  
Pool chuckles, amused, earning him a much harder press into his ribs. "Look, babe," he struggles to speak and breathe in between words with the pressure on his chest, which is only increasing as Spidey's impatience grows. "Asphyxiation... is kinda where... I draw... The line... When... It comes to... Kinks, So... Let up please."  
"Will you answer my questions?" He presses.  
"Sure... Whatever... You want...Baby cakes..." He chokes out, in quite a bit more pain than he thought someone this kid's age could inflict.  
{holy shit, this kid is strong! I think he just cracked our rib.}  
[he's so scrawny though! I mean he's got muscle, like, a sexy amount, but not much.]  
{I was right, he has some abilities other than the web shooting thingys.}  
[you mean the cum shooters?]  
As soon as the suffocating pressure is released from his chest, Pool inhales sharply, coughing a bit before sitting himself up and struggling to prop himself up against a cold wall, his hands and feet still bound. When he succeeds to do so, Spider Man doesn't waste any time.  
"Who do you work for?"  
"Nobody."  
"Don't lie to me. I will hurt you." He threatens, glaring so much his mask actually contorts a bit, and it looks damn scarier in the light from the blazing fire behind them.  
"No, I'm serious- I don't work for anyone. I'm just a mercenary, but I don't work with anyone long term. I have been rejected from every single hero and mutant group in the Marvel Universe. Even the bad guys don't like me. They say I'm annoying and agitating and inappropriate and my morals are shit and don't know when to shut up. And also that I'm completely mentally unstable and a bit too quick to pull the trigger. And violent. personally, I do agree with all of those things, as well as the well known fact that I am totally ugly. But I mean, if you have some patience I'm not that bad and maybe I should just-"  
"Oh my god, shut up, please." Spider Man interrupts him, and he now has no doubt in his mind that his guy is borderline crazy, and probably not working for anyone. Who could tolerate this shit?  
Also, what the hell is the "Marvel Universe"?  
He's silent while he thinks over how to handle this, watching as firemen finally arrive on the scene and start to struggle to put out the massive fire, not yet coming after the man who started it.  
[great job, you made him hate us. Everyone hates us. You know why? Because we are actual shit. Like seriously we are a fucking mess and nobody will ever tolerate us and we are completely useless. Do everyone a favor and just keep on trying to die.]  
Pool shrinks back a bit, genuinely a bit hurt by the words coming from his own mind, and Spidey's reaction. (or lack thereof.) desperate to escape the situation before he embarrasses himself further, and regretting his choices in the first place, he starts to try to talk his way out.  
"Look, if you'd just get me out of these, I'll be out of your hair- or, uh, webs- before you know it." He tries, tired of waiting for a reply.  
"You just blew up a building and literally admitted that you're mentally unstable, and you want me to set you loose? I don't think so." He scoffs, shaking his head. "Might as well just drop you off at the psych ward myself, see what they can do."  
{that is a bad idea. That is a very bad idea. Please tell him that it's a bad idea.}  
[no no no no no no. Not again. Never again. Kill him.]  
"No way!" He yells all of the sudden, both terrified and pissed- he's directing it at white and Spider Man.  
"Hm?" He cocks his head, confused by the sudden outburst, especially because Pool wasn't even facing him when he said it.  
"Uh... You might not want to do that." Pool counters, growing more desperate.  
"And why is that?" Spider Man drawls, impatient but deciding to humor this Deadpool guy anyways.  
"See, some people have tried that before, and to summarize- I completely lost my shit and literally killed everyone in the marvel universe. That includes you." He speaks rapidly, his anxiety spiking, but he hasn't gotten too pissed- he seems friendly enough, and incapable of doing anything super bad, for the time being. He's not even making any sense.  
He raises an eyebrow. "What the hell is the marvel universe?"  
"Uh... Nevermind. Look, my point is that if you drop me off in a hospital or prison or wherever, you will regret it."  
"Mhm. Look, buddy, I'm not listening to this crap anymore. I don't know what you're trying to-"  
"Shut the fuck up and listen to me!" He shouts, slamming his bound fists into the wall behind him. Spider Man, startled by the sudden change in demeanor, steps back, glancing worriedly around them for anyone who have have heard, before turning his attention back to Deadpool.  
"I am a well trained assassin and mercenary," he growls. "I have been both arrested and forcefully hospitalized many times, and all people involved ended up with a bullet in their head or a knife to the throat, their blood completely soaking my clothes, and I will not, I repeat, not hesitate to do it again." He inhales sharply, pausing and trying to keep it together. "So, you can let me go, or be responsible for the slaughter of an entire hospital staff. Your choice." His voice has turned incredibly dark, his body tense, and Spider Man immediately reevaluates his first take on this guy.  
He's not just crazy, he's sure of that much. From what this guy is saying, he's dangerous. And even though there's no proof that he's as dangerous as he claims, the instantaneous mood swings and outbreaks are proof enough for Spidey that precautions should be taken.  
"Look, I'm sure as hell not about to let you go- I'm taking you somewhere, but forget putting you with civilians." He crosses his arms.  
"Where the hell...?" Pool asks, confused, and increasingly concerned. This entire thing had gone completely sideways. He had burnt down a building for nothing.  
Fantastic.  
[please be a BDSM dungeon or something.]  
{I don't think that's what he meant.}  
[a boy can dream, can he not?]  
Spider Man suddenly snaps his fingers, nodding to himself, before pausing for a good minute to think it over some more.  
"Ah, okay, I know where. Hold still." He finally says, although he sounds rather reluctant.  
After pacing for a minute to figure out what angles to shot from, he shoots more webs, wrapping deadpool's entire body with them, like a fly in a web.  
He immediately begins to struggle, flailing around and yelling, fighting the webbing as hard as he can. He usually didn't have any issue with sexual related restraints- but this shit reminded him of the weapon X program, way, way too much.  
[no, this is not okay, I'm not okay with this, nope nope nope nope.]  
{get us out of here! What if- oh my god, what if he makes us go through more experiments... What if he brings us back to weapon X??No... No no no. Out. Now. Please.}  
White has been launched into panic, mumbling rapidly, and steadily increases his volume.  
A few cops on the scene of the now sizzling and shrinking fire look up to the roof, startled by the shouting.  
"Crap." Spidey ducks down, wrapping some webbing around Pool's mouth to silence him, or at least muffle him.  
"Just hold still, okay?" He coaxes, knowing it probably won't work. He feels like he's working with some cornered animal, and, to be honest, he's not very far off.  
After a great deal of rushed struggling against the sing logically larger and heavier mercenary, Pool is literally strapped to Spider Man's back with webs, and quite securely as well.  
{well, this has gone horribly wrong. I told you. Let's just hope they don't sew our mouth shut...}  
Pool is still now, concentrating on trying to silence white, who's begun screaming at the top of his lungs in sheer panic. It's absolutely earsplitting, and driving him insane.  
"Please!" He screams, but it's almost inaudible through the webbing.  
Spider Man launches himself off of the roof on the side away from the fire, struggling to balance with so much weight on his back.  
He swings from one building to another, doing his best to remain out of sight, and to avoid any populated areas.  
"Spider Man carries criminal across city, piggyback style" was not a headline he wanted to see.  
Or a headline he wanted his father to see.  
Pool, who's now gone silent in his own agony, caused by white's screaming, watches as calmly as he can, quickly realizing where they're heading-  
The Avengers' tower.  
{oh, hell no.}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit I wasn't going to continue this but chapter one guy 207 kudos??? I'm so sorry for how long this took but here you go!


	3. First day of drama club

"He's being continuously pumped full of every heavy duty sedative we have. Should keep him down for a while, or at least I hope so. If he wakes up, I have outfitted the cage to hold him- electric currents are going through all of the bars, strong enough to deep fry a herd of elephants. But if we slip up and he gets out, we really are screwed." Bruce speaks quietly to Tony, while looking to the custom-made prison cell with distaste.  
Inside of the 6x8 foot prison, Deadpool is lying in a cot, a hospital gown falling over his well built and horrifically scarred body. All of his weapons, and his suit, have been confiscated and locked away. A majority of his destroyed skin is now visible, since the gown is a bit small for his large and muscular body. They're aware he'll flip shit when he wakes up, but Bruce has a replacement suit and mask on hand, one that isn't covered in weapons, just for him to use while he's being kept here. The one thing he hates most is having his skin exposed, and they don't need him any more pissed than he already will be.  
They have seen his body before, in previous incidents where he ended up in their infirmary, but it always caught them off guard. The peeling, bloody, brown, yellow, and red skin covering him is an unpleasant sight, to say the least. Tony really can't blame him for keeping the mask on.  
"Okay. Just get the blood, run the tests you need, and we'll go from there." Tony orders him, speaking firmly and crossing his arms.  
"Quit ordering me around. I'm not Peter." Bruce scowls, not taking well to the commands. He never does. Everyone on the team is agitated by their little control freak, aka Stark the asshat. They've realized, to a certain extent, that trying to argue and stop his controlling nature is useless, but they still try.  
Tony just continues to watch the unconscious prisoner, glaring, undisturbed by Bruce's reprimanding.  
"Tony, listen to me." Bruce tries, to no avail.  
"Tony!"  
Reluctantly, the tired-eyed man turns to face him, finally looking away from Pool.  
Bruce continues to speak to him, frustrated, but grateful to finally have his attention, nonetheless. "I will run a few tests and a psych evaluation, and I will figure out what to do with him afterwards, and I will let you know. But you need to not intervene, please. We've never had such an opportunity to get a look at his immortality, and now, thanks to Spider Man-"  
"Ha." Tony scoffs, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Thanks to Spider Man my ass. He just unloaded his problems on us- why should we thank him?"   
"Jesus Christ, could you accept him for just a second?" He slams his fist on the table between them, growing more agitated by the second. He just has to pick a fight with anyone, doesn't he? Iron Man or not, he's damn near intolerable.  
Tony doesn't respond, just looks blankly at his friend, making a small and failed attempt to hide his irritation.  
Bruce sighs, crossing his arms. "What I'm saying is that this is a unique opportunity, and if you happen to run into our little spider friend, I'd like you to thank him."   
"I think not. Honestly, he's such a nuisance, I-" just as he was about to fling lord knows how many insults at the spider vigilante, the automatic lab doors slide open, interrupting Tony and revealing Peter, who's holding a cup of coffee, and has a fragile smile on his pale face. It immediately falls when he sees his father.  
There's a long moment of silence, Tony's angry eyes meeting his, before Peter takes a deep breath.  
"Bruce," he ignores Tony, breaking the eye contact, and taking a step forwards. "I brought you some-"  
"Peter!" His father yells, startling his son, turning away from Bruce. "What the hell are you doing here?"  
"I just thought I'd bring uncle Bruce some coffee..." His voice drops a bit, becoming shaky, and his eyes are now trained on his feet. He was hoping he could get past his father, but it clearly isnt happening. "I heard he got a tough assignment last night, I just wanted to help and ask about-"  
"No!" Tony roars, moving so he stands between Peter and the cage. He's aware he's being cruel, but he won't take the chance of Peter getting acquainted with the psycho prisoner of theirs. He knows that Pool will likely cling to Peter, and possibly use him to get to the avengers.  
When a look of fear crosses his son's face when he steps towards him, Tony steps back again, feeling mildly guilty, lowering his voice to a calm but stern tone.  
"This is not only a tough assignment, but a dangerous one. I need you to leave, now." He orders, stepping closer to Peter once more.  
Bruce looks helplessly at his nephew, who meets his pity filled gaze with a look of apology, although he has nothing to apologize for.  
"Alright. Sorry..." Peter quickly turns on his heels, eyes still trained on the floor, walking out as quickly as possible after leaving the coffee on a table near the door.  
It slides shut once more behind him, and Tony sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Bruce doesn't say a word, disapproving of Tony's outburst, but also aware that it was for the sake of Peter's safety.  
After a long silence, Tony speaks, turning to face his friend.  
"Am I too hard on him?"  
Bruce snorts. "That's an understatement."  
Tony just shakes his head, somehow regaining his composure and immediately losing any pity for his son. That was his specialty- immediately pulling the blame away from himself. "Teenagers don't make any sense."  
"No, Tony. You don't make any sense." Bruce looks at him with a mix of anger and annoyance. Peter is like a son to Bruce as well, and seeing his father treat him so horribly is most definitely upsetting.  
"Whatever you say. Just have fun with your lab rat." He walks out without another word.  
Bruce sighs again, going back to fiddling with some needles at the lab table, but still thinking about Peter, and the look in his eyes each time his father yelled at him for the most harmless things.  
It really is enough to crush your heart.  
"Daddy issues?"  
Much to his embarrassment, Bruce practically jumps out of his skin as he whirls around to see their scarred prisoner, conscious, sitting up, and clutching the IV he ripped out of his arm in a tight fist.  
"Wow, the hulk, so easily frightened! How adorable!" Pool laughs cheerfully, standing up. "I wonder what it would be like if I scared you while you were giant broccoli man- cause an earthquake, perhaps?"  
"How long have you been awake?" Bruce asks incredulously. He knew that his captive had a strong resistance to sedatives, but the amount that should be flowing through him right now could put down an army.  
"The entire time. Well, actually, Spidey managed to knock me out during the struggle to lock me up in this shithole, but I woke up almost immediately after you locked the door. Just stayed "pretend asleep" to get the scoop on what the Brady bunch in spandex has planned for me today. And, wow, you ladies have quite the drama club here! For god's sake, Tony has a kid! I don't remember being told about this."   
[and a hot one, at that. Did you see that ass?]  
He steps closer to the bars of his prison, listening intently to the buzzing of the electricity and looking Bruce directly in the eyes. Having his skin exposed alarms him, and ever since white woke up, he's been going on about how much it's been pissing him off, but Bruce has seen it all before. He'll just ask for a mask and some clothes later.  
"You have no business speaking about my nephew. You were supposed to be unconscious, and he is not to come in any form of contact with you. As a matter of fact, you weren't even supposed to know of his existence." Bruce says stiffly, also stepping closer to the bars of the cage.  
Pool raises his hands in a surrender like fashion, shaking his head. "Heyo, your secret's safe with me buddy. But how did they keep that shit a secret for so long? The media loves Tony- he's famous, rich, heroic, and about as asshole-ish as it gets. They must go out in public together, so how come I've never seen that little hot piece of-"  
"Watch it." Bruce snaps, cutting him off.  
"Well I'm sorry, uncle Bruce."  
He shrugs.  
"Call me that again and I'll push you into the electric bars my damn self." He shakes his head with a groan and turns around, digging around in some drawers to try and find that replacement suit. He can feel pool getting antsy about having his skin exposed, just in the tone of his voice alone.  
As much as he hates to admit it, he has a weird understanding for the mercenary. Bruce has some sort of talent for detecting anger and stress in other people, and for whatever reason, he can detect it the easiest in Pool. Maybe because they both turned into freaks. Whatever the case, that connection gives Bruce an annoying sympathy for him, that has repeatedly annoyed the shit out of Tony.  
Meanwhile, pool is still mulling over the whole electrocution concept, pacing around the cell. He tries his hardest to focus on that, instead of how much of his hideous skin is visible.  
[i wouldn't mind that too much.]  
{it wouldn't be fun though. Probably hurt like a bitch.}  
"We always hurt... Our skin is literally peeling off." He mumbles, not disturbing Bruce, who's well aware that Pool is off on another one of his tangents where he talks to himself about god knows what.  
[we've done so much fucked up shit in bed though, we gotta try something new every now and then. Electricity play couldn't possibly be the worst.]  
"You're not wrong, but maybe we could start with baby steps... Crank down the voltage, you know? Maybe not kill ourselves straight off the bat?"   
[nah, just jump right in! The longer it kills us, our hideous self, the better! It's not like anyone will ever miss us. Shit, just imagine the party the Avengers would throw! "World's greatest nuisance dead!" Would be all over the headlines! Oh, wait- you can't die. Which would make everyone happy. So would ya look at that, you'll never make anyone happy. Somehow I am not surprised.]  
"Stop..." He whimpers as white continues to go on and on in self loathing, throwing insults left and right.  
It's a daily occurrence, the whole self loathing rant thing, but being captured, exposed, and feeling ridiculed makes him that much more susceptible to the hurtful words coming from his own mind.   
The anxiety about not having his suit is coming through more and more in the way he's clenching his fists and flinching, trying to steady his breathing, and pacing faster and faster, and Bruce digs around more, unsure of where he set the suit.  
Eventually, he realizes- Tony took it when he walked out, likely in the hopes that pool would have a meltdown without it. And at this rate, Tony really would get what he wanted.  
"That son of a bitch..." Bruce mumbles, shaking his head.  
He looks up sympathetically at Pool, who's now hyperventilating and curled up in a ball on the cot, clutching the sides of his head in a fashion that is probably an attempt to drown out the voices.   
Realizing he really needs to go get a suit before his prisoner has a meltdown, or worse, he jumps up.   
"I'll be right back. Hang in there." He says hurriedly over his shoulder as he speed walks out the door, forgetting to lock it behind him.  
The only response he gets is another whimper.


	4. Just like you

Peter knows his father will kill him if he finds out, and Bruce would probably flip shit, but he has returned to the lab, after seeing Bruce speed walking down the hallways and screaming for Tony. It was something about a suit he stole? Whatever the case, it gives him an opportunity, and he silently creeps back up to the top floor, where one of Bruce's multiple labs is located. If he is working in the top floor lab, it is usually particularly dangerous or a pressing issue, and that is confusing to him. This "Deadpool" had been fairly easy for him to catch and bring in, only coming out with a few scratches and bruises here and there. The fact that they are treating him like some major threat is both concerning and intriguing.  
Knowing how his father tends to disappear for long periods of time, he figures that he'll have enough time to pop in and out of the lab, just to see this Deadpool guy up close, maybe ask a few questions. He just hopes that he doesn't recognize his voice or figure.  
Much to his good luck, the lab is unlocked, and the doors slide open without him even having to enter the code, which he managed to figure out by following his uncle around when he was a kid, and he was allowed to observe the family working. Now, things have clearly changed.   
He steps forward hesitantly and the doors slide shut behind him, leaving him in the "forbidden lab". He looks around at all the tables in the room, illuminated by blue and white LED lights, with books and papers and an assortment of scientific instruments scattered across them. There's photos of notorious criminals and other random articles tacked up on the walls, and the place is significantly messier than the rest of his labs.   
He takes a few steps forward, nearly tripping over a pile of tangled up lab coats on the floor. Making a surprised noise when he catches his balance again, he steps around them, looking up again at the cage off to the left.  
There's a figure huddled up in the corner, covered by what looks like the cloth literally ripped off of the cot. The frame of the makeshift hospital bed his upside down on the other side of the enclosure, what's left of the padding and fabric on it torn to shreds. All of the IV tubes and needles have been thrown about, some of them looking burnt, probably from the electricity he can hear buzzing through the bars.  
He tip toes towards the tiny prison, trying not to startle the man. He's in the corner, none of his body visible because of the cloth, but he's clearly tense and alarmed, like a wounded animal.  
When Peter is just a few steps away from the edge cage, he clears his throat, looking towards the figure with sympathy in his eyes. He knows he's the one who put him here, but the guy did threaten to mass murder an entire hospital staff. It wasn't like he could've left him on the streets. And yet, he still feels shitty about it, just because he's aware this man is clearly emotionally and psychologically unstable, and being left in the hands of someone as cruel as Tony, when you're wounded enough as it is, isn't fun. He would know.  
"Uh-" he starts to speak, not exactly sure what he's going to say.  
He doesn't get another syllable out before Deadpool makes a strangled noise. "You're not supposed to be in here." His voice quivers.  
"Well, yeah- I just wanted to know what all the commotion was about..." He says, biting his lip nervously and adjusting his short brown quiff, despite the fact that nobody is looking at him.  
"It's nothing. Leave." The man speaks firmly, or as firmly as he can in his current state.  
"Well, I just wanted to know who you are, what you do." He insists, ignoring the command to leave.  
"Peter, is it?" Pool asks without removing the sheet.  
"Yeah..."  
"Well, Peter, I am your worst nightmare. What I do? Things you don't need to know about. Now leave." He snaps, just trying to get this kid to leave him alone so he could focus on trying to quiet the voices.  
"But-" he tries to keep arguing and asking more questions, but he's interrupted almost immediately.  
"Peter!" Bruce shouts when he re-emerges, significantly sooner than he had expected.  
Shit.  
Peter spins around, a guilty expression on his face. "Uncle Bruce- I'm sorry, I was just curious and the lab was unlocked and I figured I should just check this out and you know, I never meant to-"  
"Enough." Bruce interrupts, setting the suit he finally managed to find on a table beside him, and furrows his brows. After a moment of silence, staring at his frozen and scared nephew, and an exasperated sigh, he speaks again, this time, much gentler. "You know, I don't approve of how harsh your father was, but you can't be in here. He wasn't wrong about the danger."  
Peter turns his head for a moment to look at the figure in the corner, which hasn't spoken or revealed itself since Bruce walked in.  
"He doesn't look too dangerous to me..." He says quietly, looking between his uncle and the prisoner with uncertainty. "Frankly, he seems pretty harmless."  
"He's not-" Pool grunts, trying to remind them of his presence, clearly not wanting to hear himself getting shit talked. "Can we speak in the hall?" Bruce stops mid sentence and eyes Deadpool warily.  
Peter nods, starting towards the door.  
"I'll meet you out there." He reassures.  
Once his nephew leaves, he picks up the plain black suit, a ski mask on top, and tosses it through the bars of the cage. It lands a few feet in front of Pool, who brings the sheet down just enough to see over it.  
"Get dressed. I'll be back." He says as coldly as he can, not waiting for a response before he briskly walks out to meet Peter in the hall.   
The door doesn't even shut completely before his nephew begins to argue.  
"Uncle, he's literally curled up in a ball in a corner of the cell! How can he be so dangerous I can't even be in the same room- he's very well restrained!"  
"I see where you're coming from, and he does seem harmless enough. But he's not. He's killed people. Hundreds. Maybe thousands. For money. And he likes it. He's mentally unstable, and he can go from what you just saw, a pitiful mess, to laughing over your dead body, soaked in your blood." He warns, crossing his arms.   
"Okay, fine, maybe he's a psychopath." Peter crosses his arms as well, jutting out one hip, as he usually does when he argues (at least when he's arguing with anyone other than his father). "But that is an electrically charged cage, and he has no weapons. How can he hurt me right now?"  
"It's not that I'm worried about him killing you- I mean, I most certainly am- what I'm worried about is him messing with your head. It's what he does best. As a matter of fact, that's all he does. He's crazy, Peter. He could probably talk you into setting him free if he really wanted to. And worse yet, I don't think he'd kill you. He'd just use you against us. Now he knows our only weakness, and we are not about to wave it in front of his damn face."  
"So you don't trust me? That's what this is?" Peter remarks, agitated, pulling a typical teenager line.  
"No, Peter. You're just as strong and intelligent as the rest of us, definitely more than your knucklehead of a father, so don't take anything I'm saying the wrong way. I'm just worried. You're a bit young to be having this kind of life, and all we want is to keep you out of this criminal justice, vigilante shit for as long as we possibly can. We want you to have a life, Peter, and not one that involves dealing with shitheads like him."  
"But that's not what I want." Peter sighs. "I get it- you love me, want to keep me out of harms way, yap yap yap. But you can't. Being a part of the avengers family, even if you aren't an Avenger, immediately throws you into the grips of the whole criminal justice, vigilante, constant danger thing. For that exact reason, nobody even knows I exist! They all just think I'm Tony's secretary, not his son!"  
"Exactly!" Bruce says. "That's us trying to keep you safe. We love you Peter, and we know how you feel, but there's not much of a choice here."  
Peter immediately looks sullen, upset by the rejection.   
"Look, all I know is my parents died and now I'm in a family of superheroes who adopted me, and I'm being treated like I'm inferior. I know I'm just a little old photographer, and a "secretary" for you, not some super human" (if only they knew...) "but I just want to be useful. And I want to participate or at least know what's going on. I just want to be able to check in on this guy, talk to him, and leave if he tries to manipulate me. I'll even bring him his meals every day, so if tony asks you can just say I'm a better cook or whatever. Just let me be in on this one thing. Please." He pleads, his soft brown eyes shining in a way that would impact almost everyone's decisions.  
Fortunately for Peter, his uncle is one of those people who has issues turning down a curious child, especially the only child he's ever really grown to attached to.  
"Peter..." He starts. "Look, I don't know-"  
"Cmon Uncle Bruce, if I can't help with the missions and the danger, I can at least help in the labs, right? Be like a scientist or something, like you and dad? Maybe make something of my life?"  
That was it. The whole "I want to be like you someday" drove the final nail into the coffin.   
Bruce pauses for a moment, trying so hard to act like the decision hadn't practically been made for him. This kid is relentless, and he knows that if he bans him from seeing Deadpool, he would sneak in and get his ass in trouble.  
With a sigh of reluctance, he gives in.  
"Fine, fine, only for educational purposes. But avoid anyone finding out, okay? You can bring him his meals, and I'll handle the lunch while you're at school. But be in and out of there. No more than a few words. He argues, asks to get out, begs, pleads, even starts dying- which I should mention, is actually physically impossible for him, so don't believe his shit- you walk away and you come find me or your father. Are we clear?"  
Peter nods vigorously, the pleading look on his face immediately turning into a satisfied grin.   
Bruce, who has had an incredibly worried look on his face for the past few hours, sighs and laughs, releasing the tension in his body and facial expression. He smiles back at Peter lovingly, glad to see a grin back on his nephews face, after not seeing that expression for far too long.  
"Okay, you go do homework or photograph stuff, or whatever it is you young people do, and I'll email you some files with basic info on Deadpool. Print them and delete all evidence that they were sent to you."  
Peter's smile grows as he nods again, turning around and walking to the elevator with a bit of spring in his step, that nobody had seen in him for a longgggggg time.  
Bruce just smiles after him, watching him disappear into the elevator with a look of fondness on his aged face.


	5. Confusion

Peter sits in his room, on his unmade bed, looking at the computer screen in his lap with tired eyes.   
As promised, Uncle Bruce had forwarded all the files they had on Deadpool. It is a  list of everything they know about him and his abilities (which isn't much, at all), most of the crimes and destruction he's been responsible for, all the run ins they've had with him, the people he killed, and, most intriguing of all, a file full of all the people he's ever assisted or saved.  
Peter has been reading through all the different files, report by report, skipping around every now and then, but never quite getting bored. This man, whoever he originally was, has been through hell and back. It's really nwonder he lost his damn mind. Anyone would.  
Although, from the looks of it, he was crazy before all the major incidents, including the rather gruesome one that involved him becoming, for the most part, immortal. There was not much information on that, much like everything else involving his background- it just says that Weapon X left him horrifically deformed, immortal, psychotic, and blood thirsty.  
He flips around the general information file, trying to piece everything together. Unfortunately for him and his endless curiosity, there's little information in this file. His real name and any updated photographs aren't there, but it does say how he became immortal, the alarmingly high body count he has, a list of possible mental illnesses and deformities, and his estimated age. There's a note at the bottom, saying that the most recent photographs and most information linking him to his previous life, other than his military days, had been removed and put in a confidential file at Deadpool's request. Otherwise, it's just blank.  
Scrolling some more, he comes across an attachment of photographs. Out of curiosity, he clicks on the link, opening a collection of just a few photos.  
Within the pictures are photos of a man in uniform, well built and just over 6 feet tall, smiling with some blonde guy in glasses. From one photo to the next, it's the same guy, with an assortment of people beside him- both dead and alive.   
Peter's eyes widen at a picture where you can finally see Deadpool's entire face. With chiseled features, warm brown eyes, and basically a drop dead gorgeous face all around, he is certainly unexpectedly attractive. It was to a point that he is alarmingly attracted to him. Which is certainly  strange, considering that Peter has never even considered himself being gay.  
And yet, he can't deny the weird and mildly sexually driven thoughts that pop into his head when he flips to yet another photo, this one showing the man shirtless, with pecs, biceps, and abs all displayed in a way that made him look like a goddamn model.  
Shifting uncomfortably, he wonders if he'll get to see that in person, and then immediately chases that thought out of his mind. Having any sort of attraction to a murderer isn't within his interests, regardless of how absolutely ripped that murdered is.  
But, when Peter checks the date on the photos, he notices that all of them are dated long before the incident.  
Lord knows what he looks like now, since all the photos taken after those days are in some file somewhere that only his parents could ever access them.  
But really, how bad can it be?   
He tries to imagine what he could possibly look like underneath the mask, wether he still looked so handsome. I mean, the suit he had been wearing was very form fitting, and he is obviously still incredibly muscular, so what makes him so horrifically deformed?   
Unfortunately for him, pondering that for too long, along with realizing that this hot person is literally in a cage just a few floors above him, ends up creating a dreadfully familiar tightness in the crotch of his pants. He starts to shift around even more to try and ignore it, to no avail. It actually just makes it worse.  
He groans, mentally cursing his teenage hormones and slams the back of his head into the headboard. Did he seriously just get a boner over a goddamn mercenary? For real?  
"Peter!" A quiet voice snaps him out of his fantasies, along with some banging on his bedroom door.  
"Uh- ah-" he slams the laptop shut, shoving it under his pillow, and pulls the covers up to his stomach, panicking. "C-come on in!"  
Steve walks in with a small and forced grin on his face. "Hey, how are you?"  
"I- I'm pretty good, yeah." He shifts around some more, also bearing a forced grin, trying to look even remotely relaxed. It isn't working, but Steve is kind of blind at times, although lovable. Thank god for that.  
"I heard about the incident with your father..." He comments, giving Peter a weak, pity filled smile. He goes to sit on the bed, but Peter decides to spontaneously starfish the fuck out of his bed, taking up all the space in an attempt to avoid anuncomfortable situation.  
Steve, confused, just keeps standing.  
"Yeah, it's whatever. I mean, I guess. Yknow, not like, new or anything." He mumbles, fidgeting uncomfortably even more. Leave, leave, leave, he wants to scream, but unfortunately his father really, really doesn't seem to have any intention of doing so.  
"It shouldn't be happening so often, though." He says firmly, looking as if it's taking quite a bit of effort to remain calm. "He doesn't treat you well anymore, and I know that, I just..."  
"You just what, dad?" Peter snaps. "Look, he doesn't give a shit and you shouldn't have to make up for that. I don't expect you to. I'm fine." He's lying now, but he doesn't like telling Steve when he's not okay. It's too hard to see the pain in his eyes.   
Steve looks at him sympathetically. "He doesn't mean it, you know. He loves you. He really does." He notes that his father looks afraid, for whatever reason, but he decides against pressing the issue. Instead, he responds as irritatedly as usual.  
"Pfft. How about he gets his arrogant ass in here and tells me his damn self?"   
Steve sighs, shaking his head, and decides to ignore the swearing for the time being. "I've been trying... But as you said, arrogance is a bit of an issue with your father." He bites his lip, looking anywhere but into his son's eyes. He fidgets in a nervous way, something he's never done before, unless something is seriously wrong.  
"Why are you telling me this?" Peter questions, sitting up, alarmed.  
"I..." He looks at his feet, sniffing a bit. "I just feel... Really bad, about all of this, these issues with your father..."  
"Dad, what are you so sorry for? It's not your fault." Peter, who's arousal has twisted into fear, stands up, walking around the bed. He places a tentative hand on his father's muscular arm, looking up at his tear filled eyes.  
"I- I never should've-" suddenly, and completely unexpectedly, Steve lets out a strangled sob, grabbing his son by the shoulders and protectively pulling him into his strong arms and against his chest.  
Peter, although caught off guard and increasingly afraid, allows this gesture in silence, returning the embrace as his father, Captain fucking America, sobs into his shoulder. He strokes his father's back lovingly for a few moments, until he pulls it together, standing up straight and wiping his bloodshot eyes. He sniffs a few times, looking ashamed.  
"Dad... Have you slept, like, at all?" Peter asks worriedly, looking at the mess of a man before him.  
"Don't worry about it. I just... I want you to know that no matter what happens, I love you. I always will. I promise." He assures his son, who's now incredibly confused.  
"Wha-" before he even gets a question out, his father is out of the room, the door shutting softly behind him.  
Slowly, Peter backs up, sitting down on the bed very slowly. He places his head in his shaking hands, exhaling sharply, holding back tears of his own. Seeing someone as strong as his father in tears is nerve wracking and beyond upsetting.  
And that brings him to the question; what the hell just happened, and why? Why did Captain America just burst into tears? What is he missing?


End file.
